a fate worse than the death you gave
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Character Death. George has hit rock bottom and in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, he knows it's only a matter of time until he runs out of luck. That is, until he finds himself looking after four idiots. For Lo.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count **\- 6407

* * *

**a fate worse than the death you gave **

* * *

"_Please, Georgie. Don't let me turn into one of them. Kill me." _

George woke, his eyes snapping open as he checked the room around him, instantly alert. As he moved his legs, the whisky bottle he'd emptied the night before rolled off his threadbare blanket, falling to the floorboards with a clatter.

He ignored it—now it was empty, it was of no use to him—and sat up more fully, ignoring the pounding in his skull and the way his stomach rolled unpleasantly.

He'd thought that as he drank more and more, his hangovers would lesson, or that he'd at least get used to them, but it hadn't worked out that way. Not yet, anyway.

A bang sounded nearby, and he cursed softly.

Through the smallest crack in the curtains, George peered out onto the street below. The window was filthy through neglect, and it was hard to see clearly, but at the far end of the street, he could see four or five moving figures.

The familiar stilted, stumbling movements made him close his eyes for a brief second. He was _so _tired.

He quickly gathered up his belongings, meagre though they were, and slipped out of the room and towards the back window. He checked the abandoned yards, side by side, overgrown and messy. They were as empty as he could hope for, and he pushed open the window as far as it would go, struggling a little against the stiff frame.

He climbed out clumsily, his backpack encumbering him, until he was on the ledge. From there, he shuffled across until he could reach the drainpipe, and taking a deep breath, he swung himself onto it.

Sliding down it wasn't easy, and his palms stung, viciously protesting his actions every single centimeter of the way down.

When he was low enough, he dropped into the overgrown grass and weeds and stopped for a moment. He had to get away before he was found, so he hopped over fences from garden to garden in the opposite direction to the figures he'd seen entering the street just minutes earlier.

Thankfully, they didn't move quickly, and speed was definitely on his side.

When he reached the final garden, George carefully climbed the fence to look each way before he hopped over into the alleyway. Checking around every corner, George made his escape from the area, his heart pounding in his chest until he knew he'd put some considerable distance between himself and his last temporary home.

Now he just had to find a new one. Again.

…

He'd avoided the countryside as long as he could, but he knew he was safer out there, so he set himself into the fields and the winding roads, praying for somewhere he could just sit and rest for a little while.

When he came across a barn, clearly unkempt and abandoned, though by choice or force, George had no idea. He checked the surroundings carefully for any hidden surprises, grateful when he found nothing.

He slipped into the barn and pushed the wooden door closed, grabbing up a nearby piece of timber to slide through the handles.

When he turned, it was to jump and fall back against the door when he found himself looking at four young men, all around his own age, all pointing guns at him.

His hand twitched towards the gun in his belt, but he didn't bother taking it out. One against four wasn't the best odds in the world, and it wouldn't help much at the moment.

"You didn't think to announce your presence while I was looking around then?" he asked, shaking his head at them. "And put the guns down, you'd know by now if I was particularly _bitey." _

One of the boys snorted at him, lowering the gun. The others followed suit, albeit slower.

"This barn is claimed," one of the boys said harshly.

"So claimed, you didn't even secure it. How are you even alive with survival skills like that?" George asked dropping his backpack at his feet. "Besides, I'm sure this place is big enough for all of us, even if it's only for tonight."

The one who'd lowered his gun first shrugged. "Sure. I'm Seamus. This is Piers, Dean and Dudley."

George nodded to them. "I'm George."

"You heading for the border?" Seamus asked, stepping away from the others and slumping down on a bale of hay that had been stacked up against the barn wall.

George shook his head. "Wasn't planning on it."

He picked his bag up and headed to the opposite side of the barn, right at the back. He tugged a few hay bales closer and sliced a knife through the rope holding one of them, loosening the hay into a bed in the corner. From his backpack, he took his blanket and laid it over the hay.

Warmth was good, but not sleeping with hay poking into his skin was better. He sat down with his back to the corner, his bag tight to his side.

He knew the others were watching him, but he didn't particularly care. He wasn't staying to make friends, he was staying because he was bone tired, and still suffering a little from the hangover that had been interrupted that morning.

Closing his eyes, he let his head rest back against the wall.

…

"_Just do it, George! Please!" _

"...geniuses, lower your voices, he's sleeping!"

"It's fine," George grunted, opening his eyes to look at the foursome across the barn. "I'm awake."

"I bet these noisy buggers didn't help with that, did they?" the one called Dean asked, his hands raised in a 'what can you do?' gesture."

George shrugged and didn't reply. He would have woken up regardless, he always did when he had that dream.

Memory.

Whatever.

He ached for a drink, but he didn't have any left and he hadn't come across any shops on his way out of the town that still had anything alcoholic left on their shelves. Hopefully he'd find somewhere tomorrow that hadn't been completely ransacked already.

"So, we were talking and we think you should come with us to the border," Seamus said, looking at George with bright eyes and a small smile.

"No, I'm good," George replied flatly.

"But… that's where everyone is heading," Piers said, his head tilted slightly, as though he was considering George as the biggest puzzle he'd ever seen.

"I know."

"Then… why wouldn't you want to head that way? Have you got family out there? They could have made their way—"

"I don't want to go," George interrupted, his tone a little fiercer, hoping to make it clear that he really didn't want to talk.

He watched them all exchange a look and rolled his eyes at their lack of subtlety. They didn't try and speak to him again though, and he considered that a win.

He spent the rest of the evening staring blankly at the wall as their chatter washed over him. It was almost soothing, in a way, to not be sitting in complete silence.

It was also irritating, because with their chatter, it made it harder to listen for movement outside of the barn. Fucking amateurs.

…

_Eyes begged him even after the words hung in the air between them._

"You're leaving already?" George turned to see Seamus watching him, hair messy and eyes still bleary with sleep.

George nodded. "I did say it would only be for the night. I'm glad you're up though, you can put this timber back across the door when I leave. And… try not to get yourselves killed."

Seamus nodded and George was slightly confused by the sadness in his eyes. It wasn't like they knew each other.

He supposed his people skills had long since dried up, being on his own though, so maybe sadness was natural.

Being alone was easier, in a way. Lonely, sure, but at least alone he didn't have to worry about others getting hurt, or hurting them himself. He'd hit rock bottom a long time ago, but he thought that letting others in only to let them down would be even worse.

He couldn't inflict that on them; or himself.

He nodded to Seamus and slipped out of the door, immediately looking around himself. There was nothing but green to be seen for miles, and he sighed. It was going to be a long trek to the next town.

…

He'd hit the jackpot at the next town over. It was deserted, which was never a bad thing these days, but more than that, there was a shop that was almost entirely still stocked in the back room.

Only the shelves in the front had been ransacked. Either the town had been hit with the virus fast and hard, or the town's occupants had all been dumbasses. Either way, it worked in George's favour.

He filled his backpack with food and bottles of alcohol and left the shop, ensuring he knew his way back as he slipped from street to street, looking for a house that was easily defensible and easy to escape from.

When he finally found one, he broke the lock on the door and slipped inside, barricading the door behind himself. Inside, there were dusty furnishings and when he opened the fridge, he stepped back in horror at the smell and closed the door quickly.

Idly, George wondered if the owners of this home had gotten away to safety of if they were out there somewhere in the masses, stumbling around searching for others to bite and infect with the same mindlessness they were suffering.

He climbed the stairs, making note of the creaks in the third and eighth step, and made himself comfortable in the back bedroom. The window opened wide enough for him to escape through if it became necessary, and the bed was soft and comfortable.

He shook the sheets, sneezing when the loosened dust attacked his nose, and got himself comfortable. Ignoring the food he'd stashed in his bag, George broke the seal on the bottle of vodka and took a long swig, sighing in relief.

Maybe vodka would help at suppressing the memory-dreams better than the whiskey had.

He could only hope.

…

"_I can't do that! I can't… I won't kill you!" _

George watched from the window in the front bedroom, eyes wide, disbelief _real. _The four men from the barn were running down the street, zombies following behind them.

Seriously? He shook his head. He'd known they were amateurs but dear lord. He wasn't ashamed to admit that for a moment, he thought to leave them to their fates because in his opinion, idiots deserved to be eaten, but then he sighed to himself and grabbed his bag.

If they'd led the zombies into the town, George couldn't stay there anyway, so he might as well save their arses on the way out.

He carefully made his way out of the back, and into the garden, over the fences to the end of the street in a move that mirrored his exit from the last town.

He followed the idiots _who were still not being quiet_ until there was a decent gap between them and the zombies and then hissed at them to announce his presence.

"You lot are being nosy enough to wake the fucking dead, no virus necessary," he snapped at them when they saw him. He waved them over, pulling them down behind the wall when they were in reaching distance. "You're never going to make it to the border if this is the epitome of your survival skills!"

"That's why you should stay with us," Seamus said, eyes wide and pleading, even as he was still panting with the exertion of running.

George shook his head. "You don't want me with you, I'm more of a monster than the zombies are. I'll get you out of this town, and then you need to stick to the countryside. You're less likely to run into trouble there."

"What about food?" Dudley asked. "That's why we came into town in the first place."

"Learn to be like fucking rabbits and eat the fruit you find in the forests and bushes, dumbass," George replied, shaking his head. "Then again, you're just as likely to get killed that way."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "There's a shop nearby that's still fairly well stocked, but I don't know if I'll be able to get to it, since you led the undead straight here."

"You have to help us," Dean pleaded. "We don't know what we're doing and… you're right. We're going to get ourselves killed. Please, George."

George noticed the way Dean glanced at Piers, and the look in his eyes when he did so, and something in his chest caved. The worry and the love and the fear—George knew how that felt, to be scared of a situation for someone else, rather than yourself.

"Fine. Fine," he said. "Follow me."

He cautiously made his way back to where the shop was, the four others trailing behind him like baby ducks behind their mother. When they got close, he jumped into a yard and forced the lock on a back door.

Checking the house was safe, he made them promise to stay where they were and left again, taking two of their backpacks with him to fill with food.

…

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. He'd gotten into the shop with little effort and filled the backpacks, but as he approached the door, he could see a few zombies milling around on the street outside.

There was no other way out of the shop, so he was going to have to fight his way out. It wouldn't be so problematic if he could risk being followed, but he couldn't. He had to get the others from the house and he couldn't lead the zombies there before they'd moved because one of them would undoubtedly get themselves into trouble.

Knowing he had no better choice, George secured the two backpacks on his back and slipped the gun from his belt. It had a full clip, and he hoped that would be enough to take most of them out so he could run.

He opened the door and slipped out, ducking down to hide behind the low wall around the shop. He wondered briefly if he could manage to find enough hiding spots to get away unnoticed, but already the nearest one to him was turning towards him.

Their sense of smell was unreal.

He shot that one first, wincing when the others all turned at the noise and stumbled in his direction. He shot another and stepped over the wall, running in the opposite direction to the house he'd left the others in.

Ducking and weaving behind and between cars and walls, George led them away, shooting occasionally when he had a clear line of fire.

It was a tense half an hour, and when he finally managed to jump into a garden and couldn't hear anything coming after him, he gave himself a minute to catch his breath, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

_Bloody nuisances_.

The sad thing was, George wasn't even sure if he was thinking about the zombies, or his new travelling partners.

…

He made it back to the house as darkness fell to find Seamus waiting for him at the back door, his fingers fidgeting anxiously.

"We heard gunshots," he said, as soon as George came into view. "We were worried about you. We thought about leaving but—"

"I'm glad you didn't," George said, cutting him off. "I'd have killed you myself if you had. Go on inside, we need to get the back door barricaded."

"We're staying here tonight?"

George nodded. "Travelling in the dark with them out there is just asking for trouble. We'll leave in the morning, so long as it's safe. Or, well, as safe as it can be."

Seamus nodded and helped George move the fridge across the kitchen to the door, pressing it back flush against the door.

"You okay?" Dean asked, when the two of them entered the living room.

George nodded and dropped the two backpacks in the middle of the floor. "Make sure you ration this, because you never know when or if we're going to come across another shop that has anything edible."

"You're bleeding," Piers said, pointing to George's arm. There was a hint of fear in his eyes, and George barely managed to not roll his own.

"I wasn't bitten," he grumbled. "Must have caught it on a wall or something."

He checked it quickly, tugging up his sleeve to see the cut on his arm. He shrugged. "It's just a flesh wound. I'll be fine."

"We have bandages," Piers said, pulling his own backpack towards him. "I can wrap it for you?"

George was about to refuse when he realised that Piers was jittery and nervous. He clearly wanted to be useful, and for a moment, George's heart went out to him.

"Okay. Thanks."

While Piers wrapped George's arm, Dudley and Dean took a moment to look at the loot George had fetched back with him.

"Real food and a bed that isn't grass or hay," Dudley commented. "This is practically heaven."

George snorted, amused despite himself. How society had fallen, if that was the bar for a heavenly existence these days.

…

"_You have to, George. We don't have a choice." _

They left the town the following morning, George leading them back out into the countryside. He was relatively sure that they could stick to the country all the way to the border, as long as they had enough food and water to last them.

It would probably be the safer option, but if they did have to venture into town, he thought it would probably be best to make the excursions by himself. Not that he didn't trust the others… actually, no, he really didn't trust them.

He was still amazed that they'd lasted as long as they had.

He managed to convince them to be quiet until they hit the winding roads, but as soon as they did, the four of them wouldn't shut up. George walked a few steps in front of them, keeping his eyes out for any threats.

"How long have you been on your own for?"

George startled, looking at Seamus who'd fallen into step beside him.

"A while."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "You're like, the least talkative person I've ever met."

"Not a lot to say."

"When it started… did you hear about the dude that created the whole thing? He wanted to create an army or something?"

George nodded. "Tom Riddle."

"There was talk of him having created a cure, do you think he did?"

"Even if he did, it's no use now," George replied flatly. "From what I heard, he was one of the first people to be eaten, and I'm sure his lab got trashed pretty quickly, for them to escape in the first place."

"His lab, though… it's near the border. We could—"

"Absolutely not," George replied, cutting him off. "If you want to make that kind of suicide run, you can do it without me."

"Okay, okay," Seamus said, holding his hands up. "It was just an idea."

"And once again, I'm amazed that you're still alive," George reiterated.

They walked in silence for a while, before Seamus piped up again, this time a little more hesitant.

"You're not actually going to just… drop us at the border and then go back into… the mess, right?"

"Actually, that's entirely what I plan to do," George said. "If the border if the safe haven it promises to be, you'll be okay there though. There will be other people around to keep you all from being idiots."

"We lasted this long," Seamus said, grinning. "Besides, don't you want to be able to… relax for a little while. You're so tense."

George just shrugged and didn't reply. He couldn't bring himself to explain that being around lots of people, possibly even his family if they'd made it there, wouldn't be relaxing.

It would only increase the guilt and regret he was already straining under.

…

"Really? Not even a barn? Just… the floor?"

George rolled his eyes. "You see a barn around here?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at Dudley.

"Well, no, but—"

"You wanna walk another few miles to see if we find one, even though you've been complaining solidly for the last hour?"

"No."

George snorted at the sullen look on Dudley's face. "Then yeah, we're sleeping on the floor. Since we're out in the open, we should probably sleep in shifts, just in case."

Dean nodded, tugging blankets from his backpack. "I'm not so tired, I can wait for a bit."

George shrugged. "I'm good for now too. The rest of you should sleep a while."

As they arranged their little makeshift camp, George perched himself with his back to a tree. The others ate quickly and then Seamus and Dudley curled up side by side on the blankets. Piers moved closer to Dean and lay down with his head in Dean's lap.

"Love you," he murmured, as his eyes drifted shut. Dean smiled down fondly at him, training his fingers through Piers' hair.

George looked away. As simple as it was, it felt like he was intruding on something intimate.

"I worry about him," Dean said softly, about an hour later.

Piers was twitching in his sleep, a frown marring his sleeping face.

George grunted to show he was listening.

"He's been through a lot, even before this… he's the reason we're so adamant to get to the border. His cousin, Max, he took care of Piers for years after Pier's parents died. He… the bond they have, it's unreal, and… he's hoping Max will be there. I don't know what it'll do to him if Max isn't there."

"How long have you two been together?" George asked quietly.

"A little over a year," Dean replied, his smile back.

George nodded. "It's good he has you. I see the way you look after each other, it's… nice."

"Even though you think it's amazing we're alive?" Dean asked, smirking.

George snorted. "Even so. You can be idiots and still take care of each other."

"Who takes care of you, George?"

George shook his head. "Me. I take care of me."

They didn't talk after that.

_..._

_A single gunshot rang out in the country, followed by the distant sounds of birds flocking from their nesting trees. _

"We need to get going," George said, leaning against the tree. "I know you're all tired, but the faster we get you to the border, the better it'll be."

They grumbled amongst themselves, but packed up quickly and got back on the road. It was warm, warmer than it had been, and it wasn't long before they were stripping off jumpers and tying them around their waists.

"Holy fuck."

George came to a stop, the others doing the same as they looked over the field in front of them.

Zombies littered their path, stumbling through the destroyed crops.

"What the hell are we supposed to do?" Piers asked, as they ducked down behind a large hedge.

"We… we're going to have to go back and around," George said, rubbing a hand over his face.

Dudley shook his head. "Nope. Not happening."

"Got any better ideas?" George asked, glaring at Dudley.

Dudley nodded. "I do actually. You remember that farm we passed, about twenty minutes ago?"

George frowned. "Yes."

"There was a tractor."

…

"This is completely insane and you're going to get us all killed," George said, as Dudley messed with the wires of the tractor. "And how do you even know how to do this?"

"I had a misspent youth," Dudley replied absently as he concentrated on hotwiring the tractor. He gave a yell of victory as the engine sputtered and then roared to life. "Everybody climb in, make sure the doors are shut and locked and the windows are up!"

They all climbed in, uncomfortable in the small space, given there were five of them and they all had backpacks that were filled almost to bursting.

Dudley sat in the driver's seat, and with a deep breath, he set off. It didn't take long for them to reach the area where they'd seen the zombies, and the engine noise drew their attention immediately.

George couldn't help but join the others laughter when Dudley plowed straight through and over them, pushing the tractor to its speed limit.

"It's running low on fuel," Dudley said, grimacing at the noises the engine made. "We're going to have to bail soon."

He'd taken out many of the zombies, but there were still a few ambling behind them.

"We can outrun them," George said. "Roll to a stop and get ready to jump out and run. Straight ahead for as long and far as we can. Got it?"

They nodded their confirmation, and Dudley gave them a countdown as the engine finally spluttered to death.

The five of them jumped down, and with the backpacks swung onto their backs, they hightailed out of there.

…

"You're a maniac," George said to Dudley, when they'd finally stopped running. "But you got us out of there so… I guess even idiots get lucky sometimes?"

Dudley snorted. "You're welcome."

"Barn up ahead," Seamus said, pointing into the distance. "Can we stop there for the night? As much as I love looking up at the stars, shelter is safer."

George nodded. With the tractor, they'd gotten a little further than he'd been hoping for the day, so stopping a little early wouldn't hurt, so long as the barn was secured and safe.

"And maybe you'll share a little something from those clinking bottles in your bag?" Dudley asked, side eyeing George hopefully.

George chuckled. "Maybe I will."

…

_There was a bloodstain on Fred's shirt, darkening steadily, spreading out from the bullet hole in his chest. George sobbed, falling to his knees. _

"Are you ever going to tell me what you did that's so bad you think it can't be forgiven?" Seamus asked.

The two of them were sitting close together, lit only by the slivers of moonlight shining through the gaps in the barn roof.

George had taken a nap before his dreams caught up with him, and he'd relieved Dean and Piers who were on the first watch. Seamus had joined him not long after, a haunted look in his eyes that George recognised all too well from the mirror.

George stared at him for a long moment. "No."

"George… nothing can be so bad that—"

"Your naivety is sweet but you need to realise that some things can't be forgiven, no matter what. What I did…" he shook his head.

"George—"

"I shot my twin in the chest and sat beside him while he bled out," George whispered. "And then I left him there and ran away."

Seamus blinked, understanding dawning. "Had he been bitten?"

"That makes no—"

"Of course it does," Seamus snapped. "I don't know you very well, and I didn't know him at all, but I'd bet all the money in the world that he asked you to kill him before he could turn into one of _them_. Am I right?"

George nodded silently.

"That doesn't make you a monster, George," Seamus said, shifting just a little closer so their thighs were resting against each other.

"We were heading for the border," George admitted. "We hoped… I've got a big family. We hoped that at least some of them had made it out there."

Seamus nodded. "Maybe some of them will be there. You're taking us there anyway… you should stay. Even if they're not there… you can't keep punishing yourself, George."

"What will I tell them? I didn't just let him die, Seamus, _I killed him." _

"You saved him," Seamus argued gently. "From a fate worse than the death you gave him."

Tears slid down Georges' cheeks unchecked, and Seamus wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It was a little awkward, given George was a little taller than Seamus, but the contact, the comfort, it still helped.

It'd been a long time since George had allowed himself to accept comfort, even from himself.

…

"Fuck!"

George spun around and his eyes widened with horror, even as he shot the zombie gnawing on Piers' arm.

It had come out of nowhere, and they'd been taken by surprise. George cursed himself for dropping his guard because he'd been the one who was supposed to get the four of them to safety and he'd failed.

This was on him. He should have been more careful.

"We need to go," he snapped at the others, when he realised they'd frozen, all looking at Piers cradling his arm.

"We can't just leave him," Dean said, pointing at Piers. "He—"

"Is going to turn into a zombie," George said, knowing it was harsh but not knowing how else to point out the obvious.

"Don't… I don't want to be one of them," Piers said, looking at Dean.

George's heart clenched in his chest at the familiar words, and he saw Seamus glance at him from the corner of his eye.

Dean approached Piers slowly. "I don't want to leave you behind," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't."

Piers shook his head, his own tears falling.

"We were so close," Dean whispered. "So close to being safe."

He wrapped his arms around Piers, holding him tightly. Piers hugged him back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

When they parted, Dean pressed a gentle kiss to Piers' head. "I'll always love you," he promised.

Dudley stepped forward to take Dean's place, hugging Piers tightly but briefly. "I'll keep an eye on Max for you."

Piers nodded. "Make sure he eats. You know he's a shit for not eating when he's stressed or upset."

"I will," Dudley replied. "I promise, I will."

"Tell him thank you," Piers added. "For looking after me, when nobody else ever had. Tell him I love him."

Swallowing hard, Dudley nodded. "I'll tell him."

Piers shook violently, his face contorted with pain. He looked at Seamus and smiled, pained but genuine. "Take care of them for me," he said, nodding his head at Dean and Dudley. "God knows the idiots need someone looking out for them."

Seamus nodded, returning the smile with a shaky one of their own.

"Shoot me," Piers said, looking at George. "Please. It hurts so much. You… I'm sorry to ask it of you, but… you're the only one that…" he glanced at the other three. "I can't ask them to do this."

George's hands shook and he clenched them into fists as his mind tried to put Fred in Piers' place, tried to force him to relive the moment again and again and again, because seeing it whenever he slept wasn't enough of a punishment.

"I'll do it," Seamus said, stepping forward. "I'll do it. George… take them two further up the road, they don't want to see this."

"Seamus—"

Seamus reached out and squeezed George's shoulder. "Go. I can do this. It's… it's what he wants."

George looked at Seamus for a long moment and then back at Piers, before he stepped forwards and wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulders. "Come on, you too, Dudley. Seamus is right, you don't want to see this."

…

Seamus stumbled up to them, looking younger than he ever had before to George. Dean and Dudley were sitting on the ground, Dean sobbing into his hands while Dudley just looked straight ahead, lost and confused.

There was blood on his shirt and on his hands, and George winced, pulling a bottle of water and an old, orange t-shirt from his bag.

"Come here," he said softly. Seamus followed the instruction, and George cleaned his hands carefully. When the blood was gone, he helped Seamus strip the shirt and gave him another to put on in its place.

He felt like he'd almost forgotten how to be supportive, but he wanted to try. Seamus had freely offered his own support to George after all.

"I'm sorry about Piers," he said. "And I'm sorry that you had to do that."

Seamus nodded. "It's… I couldn't let him turn into one of them. He didn't want that… nobody wants that."

George swallowed hard and nodded. "I know. Come on. We're almost to the border."

…

The last three miles were tense and strained. Nobody spoke. There were no words to say that would make any of it better. They reached the border as dusk fell, and George was a little surprised to find that it was actually real.

Soldiers stood around the edges of the camp, their guns in hand, their eyes watchful.

"Come in with us," Seamus begged when George stopped walking. "Please, George."

George shook his head. "I… can't. I'm sorry, Seamus, I really am. I just… can't. I'm glad you're going to be safe. Look after yourself, okay?"

"What have you got to lose by coming with us?" Dudley asked, glaring. "You're going to go out there and what? Walk miles every day, find a new squat, get drunk and… then what? Eventually, you'll get caught and bitten, and whoever it is you've obviously lost… what will it mean?"

"He's right," Seamus said, before George could argue. "Your twin… what would he want you to do?"

"_Get to the border, Georgie. Find the others, live for both of us." _

George shook his head, almost as if he was trying to shake Fred's echo away but it was no use. Dean reached out and squeezed his hand.

"Even if you can't do it for you, do it for him. For Piers. For us. We've all lost so much already… don't make us say goodbye to you too."

…

"George? Oh my god, George!"

That was all the warning George got before his little sister ran into him, her arms wrapping around his neck tightly.

"We thought you were dead!"

George hugged her tightly, stroking a hand through her long head. "I'm sorry, Gin. So sorry."

She pulled back to look at him, just as Charlie appeared behind her, and then their mum and dad a step behind.

"Fred," he whispered. "I… he got… I… he asked me too—"

"It's okay, sweetheart," his mum said, pulling him into her arms. "You're here now, you're safe. It's okay, I know… I know you did your best, I know you did. It's not your fault."

In his mother's arms, with his dad, his sister and one of his brother's around them, George let go of the guilt and he _cried. _

…

"Hey."

George looked up and smiled. "Hey yourself."

Seamus sat down beside him, pressing their shoulders together. "How are your family?"

"Grieving," George replied. "Still hoping for the others to come in. I've got three more brothers, and… we don't know what happened to them yet."

Seamus winced.

"What about you?" George asked. "Any of your lot here?"

Seamus frowned. "What lot? I wasn't coming here for family, George. I don't… have a family, or not one worth mentioning."

"You were coming here for the others, weren't you?"

Shrugging, Seamus nodded. "Yeah. And also because it was the only safe place we'd heard about, you know? There's only so long you can be out in a zombie infested place before you get eaten."

George snorted. "I suppose you're right. Did, uh, Piers' cousin… is he here?"

Seamus sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, he's here. I haven't… Dean says he doesn't blame me but… it's kind of hard to face him, knowing that I literally had Piers' blood on my hands, you know?"

"What was it that you told me?" George murmured. "You saved him from a fate worse than the death you gave him."

"Turns out that it's easier to preach when you don't have the experience to back it up."

"Yeah."

They sat in companionable silence for a while. "You can stay with us if you want?" George offered. "I have a tent now. It's small but… it's just me in it. I guess, when my mum asked for it, she was expecting me to arrive with Fred."

"You don't mind?"

"I've kinda gotten used to having you around, you know?"

…

"Max," Piers' cousin introduced himself, shaking George's hand.

"George. And you already know Seamus?"

Max nodded and turned his attention to the shorter man. He hesitated for a second before he pulled Seamus into a hug.

"I don't blame you for anything," George heard him murmur into Seamus' ear. "It wasn't your fault. Please don't feel guilty."

"I'm sorry," Seamus choked out, pulling back. "Even if… I'm sorry. For your loss. Piers was…"

"He was effervescent on a good day, and a little shit on a bad," Max filled in for him, a tearful smile on his face. He looked back at George. "Thank you for trying to get them all here. Dean's told me a little about you, and I'm sorry for your loss."

George nodded, unable to force words out of his throat.

Max left them sitting at the firepit, and they were joined a few minutes later by Dean and Dudley.

"What do we do now?" Dudley asked quietly. "I mean… we're here but… I guess… I don't know what happens next."

George shook his head. "I don't think anyone knows. Until they find or make a cure, I don't think there's much to be done."

Seamus leant his head against George's shoulder. "So we wait."

Dean nodded. "We wait."

…

"I'm bored of waiting," George said, looking out over the sea that bordered the back of the camp.

Seamus looked at him, eyebrows raised. "What do you want to do?"

Grinning, George met Seamus' eyes. "You mentioned Tom Riddle's lab was near here?"

Seamus' lips spread until his grin matched the one on George's face. He stepped forwards and pressed their lips together.

"You want to go and check it out?" he asked, pulling back, as he reached out and clasped their hands together.

"Could be dangerous," George said, looking down at their joined hands.

Seamus nodded. "Sounds like an adventure."

* * *

**Written for: **

Disney - T5. Acceptance - Someone accepting something about themselves or someone else.

Showtime - 18. Bloodbath

Attic - 3. "Geniuses, lower your voices."

Basement - 9. The Walking Dead - Zombie Apocalypse.

Film Festival - 19. Hiding

Marvel - Soul stone - "It hurts so much." / Crying / Love / Orange / Effervescent

Arcade - Brigitte - Supportive / "It's just a flesh wound. I'll be fine." / Apocalypse

Pop Figure - Nico Minoru - 1. Whiskey / 2. Lonely / 3. Someone Hitting Rock Bottom

Funfair (North) - Splash A Mod - Bex: Apocalypse

Funfair (South) - Pygmy Puff - Ernest - Crying

Funfair (East) - Gnome Throwing - Seamus Finnegan

365\. 136. Maniac


End file.
